He couldn't remember the number of times he'd escaped from one prison or another. It's why they'd shipped him around so much—no one had been able to hold him for long. He'd fought without restraint for his freedom. But if he kept touching this woman, he was afraid she wouldn't need a cage anymore. He would beg to stay.
They lay there in silence for a while. His breathing slowed, and his shaking eased. He could feel little stings and burns over his body where she'd bit or scratched him, and he remembered being just as savage with her. His own teeth marks were probably marring that smooth skin, and he'd gripped her with bruising force many times. He wanted to ask if she was okay—if he'd hurt her—but couldn't until he could speak without sounding shattered.
She beat him to it. Rolling towards him, she spoke in a voice that wavered a little at the edges, "Are you all right?"
He tensed at the feel of her so close. Refusing to lower the arm from his eyes and look at her, he grunted in response. It was too much to hope that she would just go away though.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
The breath stuttered in his throat as she ran a hand down his chest and over his stomach. He could tell by the way she moved her fingers that she was probing for injury and not trying to arouse him again, but heat sank into him anyway at her touch.
"I'm fine!" he barked, and her hand stilled.
The silence thickened, and he started thinking about escape. Problem was to get to the door he had to go through her. That would mean touching her, and he knew where that would get him. If he even lowered his arm and looked at her, saw her dark hair tousled from his desperate fingers, her lips swollen from his kisses, he'd be lost.
"Bay—"
The implications in her low voice drove him to speak, "You know, the kid didn't tell you the truth about the ship. Not her fault. She didn't know. I could've killed the crazy about five minutes after they thawed me out, but I didn't. I let him kill the crew—led him to a couple of 'em. The kid's sister didn't figure it out 'till it was too late. Turned her gun on me, screaming her fool head off. Before I could take it from her, the crazy showed up like she was calling his name." He'd let most of the crew die, and she'd still saved his life, he thought in wonder. "There wasn't enough crew left to save the ship. They burned in the sun."
He waited, expecting disgust or revulsion at least if she wouldn't be afraid of him. He couldn't push her away physically, but this was the next best thing.
"Hmm, nice try," she murmured, and he tensed warily, muscles flinching as she began to drum her fingers lightly against his hard stomach. "You want me to see the murderer in you, but it's not going to be that easy. Tell me, did you kill any passengers or crew yourself? If you're such a black-hearted killing machine, why didn't you off Kate and Regan? They were in your way. Did you sabotage any escape pods so that they couldn't get off the ship if they'd thought of it before dropping into that sun?
"Here's what I do see. I see a man faced with his execution and one last chance at freedom. Getting rid of the crew was your only way to give yourself enough time to make your escape count. Yet you didn't kill any of them yourself, even though that probably would have been easier and quicker."
Her hand began to move again, and this time there was no question about her intent. Heat built in him to a raging fire with shocking speed.
"Let's face it, Bay. Even after fifteen years in the hole, you still turned out to be a human being."
The bed shifted, and then she was sliding sensually over him, her soft flesh pressing urgency into him. With a sharp indrawn breath, he forgot escape and self-preservation, dropping his arm to look up at her. Her hair was tousled and her lips swollen, but it was the look in her eyes that made his heart pound like it wanted to rip itself from his chest. The softness in them triggered a fierce possessiveness that would've scared the hell out of him if he hadn't been on fire from head to toe. Choiceless, he buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her with desperate abandon.
When thought came back after his body stopped shuddering from another explosive release, he tried to work up the desire to leave, but his limbs felt impossibly heavy. Mea was lying against his side, head on his chest and one leg slung over him. He had an arm around her and the other hand resting proprietarily on her thigh. He couldn't move, a deep lethargy pulling him insistently toward sleep. When he distantly recognized that what he was feeling was contentment, he struggled against it, but he was too far-gone. With a sigh, he dropped like a stone into the deepest sleep he'd had in years.
Chapter 18
Terrik was on the transport ship. The sirens had been silenced, but the warning lights flashed red urgency at him, casting tricky shadows. The woman and girl were behind him, their presence pressing on his back like a hand. They were a dilemma, a constant drag on his concentration. He still hadn't decided what to do with them when she figured out what he was doing.
And she was going to, very soon. Senses tuned to the woman, he could hear her light, quick breathing turning ragged, could smell the fear dripping off of her with her sweat as they crept down the corridor. He knew the instant she finally understood what he'd been doing. Her breath hitched, and a wave of fear and horror expanded from her like a hot bubble.
"Oh god no," she whispered. Stopping, he turned his head slowly to look at her. She was hunched against the wall as if to ward off a blow, and her eyes were so wide he could see all the way around the irises. The lights tinted the whites of her eyes red, making it look like they were swimming in blood. She looked so terrified, he was sure she was going to rupture something and save him the trouble of deciding.
But she didn't. The gun that had hung from her fingers as useless as an amputation suddenly twitched up at him. Astonishment held him still.
"Regan," she whispered in a quivery voice, "tuck into that alcove. We need to check around the corner."
They'd done this before, so the kid didn't protest. When she was away from them, Kate gestured the gun at him in jerky movements.
"Move it!" she hissed.
He moved forward down the corridor, not because he was afraid of her, but because he still hadn't made up his mind. He could have taken the gun easily, but then what? Kill her? Knock her out and leave her for the crazy? Let her go? The last one was not an option. She'd warn the others. But he was reluctant to act on the first two, especially since whatever he did to her, he'd have to do to the kid. He might be a killer, but he'd never hurt a child before. Didn't seem right somehow.
They turned the corner, but she didn't let him stop there. They kept moving until they reached a dead end. He turned to face her. She was shaking so badly that the gun stuttered in her grip, rarely pointing right at him. Panting with fear, she looked at him as though he were the devil incarnate, but she didn't back down.
"You son of a bitch! Why? Why did you let them die? They're trying to save this ship and everyone on it!"
The volume of her voice rose with every word, but he didn't stop her. He'd never seen such an amazing act of courage. She was caught in such abject terror; she shouldn't even be able to move, let alone hold him at gunpoint. With every word, she was whipping her fear into anger, and her hand on the gun became more and more steady.
"What kind of a monster are you? I swear to god I'll make sure you pay for every last one of them, you sick bastard!"
Then it was too late to stop her. The crazy came around the corner. Covered in blood and sweat, his face pulled into a rictus of mad glee or horror, he chortled at the sight of them.
"I found you!"
The man swung his rifle up and aimed it past Kate at Terrik. He felt no fear—death was another kind of freedom, though not the kind he'd been looking for. He tensed to dodge, not expecting to make it. And then she flung herself at him. Maybe it was a panicked attempt to flee or maybe she was trying to force him to save her, but it looked like she was trying to save his life.
The force of the blast hit her in the back, and she was catapulted into him. He caught her reflexively and
stared down at her as her life's blood poured over his hands. Her expression as she died was perplexed surprise, as though even she didn't know why she'd done it.
The crazy was giggling like a loon, and Terrik looked up from Kate's dead face just in time to see Regan appear, put her hands over her ears, and scream. He quickly lowered Kate to the floor as the crazy stopped laughing long enough to look over his shoulder at the kid. The screaming seemed to irritate him. With a frown, he lifted the rifle again, swinging it toward the girl. Terrik was already moving. He hit the man like an avalanche, and the blast went over her head. She didn't seem to notice.
The world slowed down around him then. His actions with the lunatic felt distant, unimportant—Regan attracted his attention like a lodestone. While he knocked the gun away and sent it spinning down the corridor, she rushed to her sister's side, little face contorted in horror. Avoiding the man's wildly flailing limbs and catching him in a headlock, he watched as she dropped to her knees, clutching at Kate with desperate hands and crying her name. A pressure built inside him as she looked up, her big eyes wells of dark pain and torment. As if in response, his muscles flexed sharply and the dull crack of the man's neck breaking released the pressure with a rush like the wind of fate. The darkness in her eyes swallowed him whole.
Stone woke with a jerk. Disoriented, he held himself still and took in the unfamiliar surroundings, the dream still clinging to him. Soft bed, tangled sheets, a tantalizingly familiar scent, and an empty space under his outstretched arm—in a blink, he remembered. The memory galvanized him into motion, and he flung himself out of the bed as though it held hidden claws and teeth. One quick look and he could see the room was empty, but the sound of running water caught his attention. A second later it was joined by singing.
Mea was in the shower. An image of her wet and naked pulled him halfway across the room to the sanitary before he was aware of it, but he managed to stop, cursing silently at his weakness. Turning on his heel, he found his clothes and yanked on his pants roughly. Carrying the rest of the clothes, he stalked out of her quarters and across the corridor to his own.
A quick shower and clean clothes later, he left his room and marched down the corridor to the mess hall, moving with an angry flex to his muscles. Mea had tricked him, trapping him with his own lack of self-control. Now that he wasn't in the same room with her, his anger took on more substance.
Regan and Warren looked up from the table when he entered and the kid's sly expression made him wary.
"Good morning, Dad."
He froze, staring at her as she smiled smugly. "Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
"I'm not your father."
She shrugged as though that argument was meaningless and took a bite of her breakfast, not losing a bit of her smile. The android was hiding his face behind one hand, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
"Think of it as a nickname. I've got about a dozen."
"No. You're not calling me that."
"Are you going to beat me if I do?"
"I might," he growled.
Her smile did fade then, but she looked more irritated than afraid. Taking another bite, she eyed him for a second before shrugging again and looking down. "I guess I'll have to take my chances—Dad."
Stone gritted his teeth, glaring at her bent head. She had him, though. There was no way he could lift a hand to her, and she knew it. A memory of her kneeling over her dead sister gnawed at him, and he gave up the fight silently. Mouthing curses, he passed the table and dished some of what looked like hot cereal in a bowl. Sitting down next to her, he noticed tension in her shoulders. She might not expect a beating, but she was waiting for something.
"You get more like Mea every day," he muttered, meaning it to be an insult.
Her shoulders relaxed and she beamed a smile at him. "You think so? Thanks, Dad!"
He was still swearing bitterly under his breath when Mea appeared.
"Morning—and what has you so chipper, squirt?"
He refused to look up, but could still feel her presence like a fire moving behind him.
"Stone said I was more like you every day."
"Uh-oh. What'd you do to deserve that?"
"I called him Dad."
He heard Mea choke and began spooning his cereal with grim satisfaction. At least he wasn't the only one taken by surprise. The kid laid ambushes for everybody. Mea came around the table and sat in front of him with a cup of coffee, eyes wary.
"Ah… Regan—I promised him there'd be no pushing. Or demands."
Remembering what else she'd said made heat tighten across his skin and swallowing the bite of cereal took real effort. Doggedly, he scooped up another spoonful without looking at them.
"You didn't make me promise." Regan's voice sounded stubborn.
He risked a glance at her and sure enough, her chin was in the air and her arms were crossed.
"You said we should fight for what we want, except we couldn't with him because he'd run away. Well, he can't run away now, so I'm going to fight."
Stone sat there with cereal dripping off his spoon and stared at her. When he realized that Mea wasn't saying anything, he looked across the table. She had her lips pressed together, and her eyes twinkled with amusement as she eyed Regan's stance. Then she looked at Stone and shrugged, widening her eyes innocently.
"It seems there's a loophole." Then she sipped her coffee with calm finality as he felt the ground begin to crumble under him again.
"Wait just a damn minute—" But he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like he was panicking and leaving the room would be admitting defeat. Gesturing lamely with his spoon, he finished with, "I wasn't running away."
"Of course not," Mea agreed readily, not looking at him, but Regan wasn't as diplomatic.
"Yeah, you were."
He scowled at her, but she ignored him, finishing her breakfast. He moved his scowl to Mea. "You're her mother now. Can't you do something about her?"
She made a rude noise.
"You obviously haven't been paying attention. She's had us wrapped around her little finger since—" she checked the chronometer on her wrist, and Warren leaned over to whisper in her ear, "— right, last week. She's a little behind schedule as far as taking over the ship, but I'm sure she'll get to it." She winked at the girl snickering next to him, and then lifted her eyebrows at him. "Anything else?"
"I am leaving at Xerxes," he muttered through clenched teeth, and she looked down into her drink.
"I know."
"No, you're not. You'll fall in love with us and stay."
And what the hell was he supposed to say to that? Stone just stared at Regan, and the kid smiled back serenely, as though she knew that what she'd said was hard fact. It was enough to make a guy want to slam his head into a wall. It didn't help that the android was laughing behind his hand again.
"So, Regan," Mea finally interrupted, "how is enrollment in school coming along? Has Warren gone over your lessons with you?"
Stone's relief over the change of subject was short-lived when he saw the kid and android share a smirk.
"Actually, I've already had my first lesson this morning. It was really interesting."
"Oh?" Mea looked as wary as he felt. "What was it?"
"Sex education."
"Oh god." Mea covered her face with her hands while Warren chuckled unmercifully.
"What'd you think, I was calling him Dad just because?" The kid stood up, and put her dishes in the sanitizer before heading for the door on light feet. "I'll be in the gym!"
Mea dropped her hands and glared at Warren.
"What? She wanted to know."
"She's eleven, for god's sake! What were you thinking?"
"Calm down, I didn't give her the gory details, just the basics." He paused a beat. "So what are the gory details?"
Stone surged to his feet, ready to shove the spoon somewhere painful, but the android wasn't stupid. He jumped up and sidled
quickly toward the door.
"I think the ship needs some kind of course correction. I'll be in the control room—" The door cut off the rest of his sentence.
Violence still hummed along his muscles, but Stone sat back down and stabbed at his now cold cereal, eating it stubbornly. The silence thickened, but he ignored Mea as best he could.
"Have you been to see Ema yet this morning?" she asked quietly.
"No." He paused to look up at her, remembering with a pang how rough he'd been with her. "Have you?"
Her smile was not something he could look at long without pulling her across the table onto his lap.
"You weren't that ungentle."
Breathing carefully, he refused to watch her as she got up and put her cup in the sanitizer.
"Please see Ema after you eat. I want to make sure you're fully healed—and I didn't do you any lasting damage."
After she left, Stone shoved the cereal away in disgust and put his head in his hands. He was in so much goddamned trouble. On one side he had Mea offering him heaven and on the other he had the kid demanding love. Three more days of this and he'd be a nutcase. Why the hell couldn't he have been stronger and walked away when he had the chance?
Taking a deep breath, he stood with a survivor's stubbornness. Don't think about it, keep moving, go forward. It was all he'd known and all he had. After cleaning up, he made his way to the infirmary. Ema was her usual pleasant self.
"Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation? You know the drill, strip and get on the table."
Silently, he did as commanded.
"Good lord, you two really did go at it, didn't you? So much for advanced human civilization—you get a hormone surge and it's back to basics."
"Shut up, Ema."
"Humph. I see it hasn't improved your attitude much," she scoffed, but finished scanning and healing him in silence. "All right, you're done. Officially you're completely healed."
When he said nothing, rising from the table to dress, she grumbled, "Your welcome, you ungrateful man."
The Huntress Page 17
